Scorch The Coming Of Night

Her mouth was on fire, her fingers flashed with flame, she wanted to ignite him that they both might burn as one, and scorch the coming of night. Her tongue on his own was strong, and he loved the way she tasted. Immense pleasure… She was tough and soft, and struck such balance that he could not help but want her. He’d forced his heart open to show her everything… their’s was an honest meeting of the spirits. There was no division. It was Communion.

Tightrope

It is beautiful to walk the tightrope with you. To dance, to balance, to push while you pull, and be pushed while I pull, for us both to lead and follow at once, and for us both choosing when to fall knowing there is no net with only the safety of our arms to catch each other…. Fall with me.

To My Bloved